


A Day to Riverrun

by 3rdstarksistr



Series: The Exchange [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, First Time, Sandor POV, Virgin!Sansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 07:22:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7792171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3rdstarksistr/pseuds/3rdstarksistr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day to Riverrun where Sandor will have to exchange Sansa for Jaime Lannister, he is filled with dread as he continues down the road. How will he make the little bird his?</p><p>Continuation of His Prisoner storyline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Day to Riverrun

Each step Stranger takes closer to that damned castle, the more Sandor feels himself damned. As they crest every hill now, he worries they’ll see Riverrun. Scowl in place, he turns back to see the little bird. She’s looking off to the side, but her eyes then turn to meet his. The brightness there and her smile has quickly become all he wants. But not all, hells.

She kicks her mare closer, and asks him, “How many more days to Riverrun, Sandor?”

He turns back to the road and answers, “Not long now.” Could be tomorrow.

“Will we have to camp tonight or will there be an inn, do you think?”

“Don’t know yet.” He hears her sigh next to him, but he pays it no mind, continuing on down the road.

They’re lucky to find an inn, must be getting closer to Riverrun. He’d pass by the chance, but Sansa is always pleased to have a bed for the night, and he is, too, now that they share it. 

He glares at her though when she has the nerve to speak to the innkeep as they enter. “How many days to Riverrun from here?” At least she didn’t add a “my lady” to it.

“You’ll get there tomorrow most like.” She tells her.

Sansa turns with a smile to him. “I know,” he says. She’s excited to see her family.

“There’s a celebration, m’lady,” the innkeep draws their attention back. “News today that King Robb has married.”

A drunkard laughs behind them, and Sandor’s eyes narrow as he watches the man lift himself and stumble towards them with his finger out. “But he didn’t marry who he was supposed to. He didn’t marry the Frey girl. Don’t forget to tell them that, Bea.”

“Oh, Giles,” she laughs, “You need not tell that to this fine lady.”

“Who is the fine lady?” Giles, presumably, asks, trying to get near the little bird.

Sandor steps forward, his hand on his pommel, “Mind to your drink.” The man’s eyes go wide, and he edges back to his table.

“Your best room,” Sandor says to the innkeep who looks them over again with more thought before moving towards a rickety staircase. The room is nicer than most they’ve seen, even a small table, so he tells her to bring their meal there. Better to have the little bird seen less.

“I get to meet my brother’s new wife,” Sansa says, smiling, as they sit across from each other over the meal.

“Aye,” he says with a snort.

“What do you think the man meant? He didn’t marry who he was supposed to?” Sansa looks at him more serious.

He thinks about it, Frey, the Twins, wasn’t there something about that? Yes. “Your brother was able to take Riverrun from Jaime Lannister because he made some deal with the Freys. Likely a betrothal.” He finishes his bit of fish before it hits him, what this now means.

He looks up to see Sansa’s scrunched brow, trying to understand. “But he didn’t marry her?” She asks.

“This is not good, little bird.” No, no, no. He’s not going to bring her here, hand her off just to be another man’s within a fortnight.

“Why? Robb is king…” Sansa starts, but his brash laughter stops her.

“Even king’s need alliances, Sansa. You know what this means, if Robb has in fact fucked over his betrothal to House Frey?”

“You know I don’t like that language, Sandor.”

“Sansa, I’m going to say what the fuck I want to say.”

She purses her little lips and looks back down at her food, but it only makes him smile and slide his hand down to find her thigh and give it a pinch. That brings her eyes back up to his, startled, he smirks. Like she hasn’t kept her legs together tighter than that corset she wears.

“Will you please tell me what it means since you appear to know?” She asks.

He scowls at her attitude but proceeds, telling her, “He decided to marry someone else, maybe even for love,” he laughs. “His mistake,” and he points to her, “and you will pay for it. The Twins will be your new home.”

“What?” Sansa’s wide blue eyes look astonished but alert.

“You’ll marry the Frey, likely a boy instead though,” he laughs more cruelly.

“They won’t marry me off or find me another betrothal as soon as I get there. Not after Joffrey,” she says in a small voice. “They’ll listen to me, Sandor.” She says, extending a hand across the table to him. She’s said this before – that she’ll talk to her mother and brother and somehow work things out for her and him. Like that’ll fucking happen.

“They aren’t going to fucking listen to you, Sansa,” he says, his anger getting the best of him. He stands and heads to the little window. “I won’t even be overnight in Riverrun likely. I’ll turn you over, and if all goes well, I’ll have Jaime Lannister and be back out on the road. I’ll be gone, Sansa.” He can’t handle those last words as he looks at her, so perfect, so he heads to the door.

“Where are you going?” She asks, and he can hear the tremble in it.

“Stranger needs tending.”

“Right now?”

He glares at her with his hand on the door, but he can’t seem to move.

“Please, I beg you, speak to me, Sandor.” Her eyes are pleading with him, and then they look down unsure at her folded hands, “I want to be with you,” she peeks up at him, “but I want it to be right, with my family.”

All restraint leaves him, and he takes the few steps to her, pulling her up from the table as his hands clamp down on her shoulders. How can she not see? His mind is lost, forfeit in its desire for her, this beautiful creature he could break so easily. His thumbs bear down on her neck as if trying to get at what’s inside, to truly have it because it is not just her maidenly form he wants but all of her. Even in her naïve understanding, she calls to him, undoes him, and he’s left reeling like now, knowing he must have her but seeing no way.

She’s crying now and her labored breathing is like a distant sound with his hands gripping her, trying to get at her in any way possible. “If I stole you away,” he starts, his voice unsteady, “would you hate me?”

“Sandor, that’s not…”

“Would you hate me?” He says louder, his eyes closed.

“I could never hate you.”

He opens his eyes and looks deep into hers, testing, “Never?”

“Never,” she says, her eyes locked to his. “But Sandor…”

“No, Sansa.”

He feels her little body shake now, as the realization dawns on her that she likely won’t see her family. That she’s a day away, and he’d deny her that. He releases some of his hold, his hands lightly trembling now, stroking her collarbone.

“You’ll see your family for a fortnight before they wed you and send you off, little bird.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I know, girl, and I’m not letting go of you for that to happen.”

“Sandor, please, please, there must be a way.” Her eyes are full of desperation, but his own resolve will not be swayed.

“I would have you mine, in truth, this night, Sansa, if you truly mean your words. There’ll be no going back.” Her eyes look uncertain, her virgin fear shining through, and he edges one of his hands up to grip her chin, marveling at her soft, pale skin against his own. He feels the slight nod of her head in his hand, but he presses, “I want to hear you say it.”

Her lips part, and she says in earnest, “Yes, Sandor, I will be yours.”

“There’s no going back after this. You will do as I say.”

He feels her swallow hard, but she nods more, “I understand.” Does she? He wonders, but still, her answer pleases him.

“I promise you, Sansa,” he shifts his other hand to cradle her face, “I will always take care of you and see you are never harmed. One day I will see that you meet your family again, though it likely won’t be tomorrow.” Her lips pinch in sorrow, and he’s surprised to sense a part of her pain, to even rethink taking her away.

He smoothes his hands down over her shoulders and nudges her towards him. He’s almost surprised at how quick she is to be close to him, grabbing hold of his tunic. He wraps his arms around her and holds her there. “Don’t shake.”

“I’m sorry.” She says in a whisper.

He moves his hands to take hold of her face again, finding tears, “I don’t want you crying either.” He wipes the tears off her cheeks as she nods.

“Now, I’m going to see to a few things. I’ll have them send up some warm water,” he tells her before heading out to the stable.

After tending to Stranger, he looks out into the darkness surrounding the small village there before heading back inside. He'd brought her here, a day from Riverrun, but he can't follow through with it. Especially after the foolishness he'd heard about her brother. No, he won't give her over. 

The weight of looking after her he already knows increased tenfold when he knew she was his now, that she'd go with him. He hadn't anticipated it, but he'll carry it. There's a strange other weight, too, knowing he's stealing something precious, that all those fucking lords and ladies will consider her ruined now after he takes her. She'll be his though, and that's all that matters. There's no going back for him either. Sealed his fate with Trant's own.

He enters their room and quickly finds her eyes, wide and blue, from the bed. He secures the door, then sets down his weapons on the table and undoes his armor. He pulls off his tunic and starts on his breeches when he hears her little voice, "Sandor?"

"Thought you'd appreciate me washing off," he says, heading over to what's left of her bath water. He washes up as much as he can, the water turning dark. 

He's surprised to feel a towel on his back as he finishes. 

"Little bird?" He says, turning around to find her up. "Did I say...why do you have your dress back on?" 

"I..." She struggles to explain as she makes every effort not to look down. 

He towels off and then holds her shoulders. “You trust me?”

“Of course,” she says quickly, looking up at him as if trying to convince him she means it.

“Good,” he says, moving to find her laces, loosing them, and then pulling her dress down.

He pulls up on her shift next, but she edges toward one of his arms and whispers, “Sandor, can we just…?”

He stops and wraps his arm around her waist, “It’s okay.” He nudges her towards the bed then. She turns, looking back up at him, and he nods to her. He watches her pad over and sit down on the bed. His lip twitches for a moment as he looks at her, sitting like a little lady.

“Take it off now,” he tells her.

She doesn’t protest this time, and she’s right not to try him. That shift will be coming off one way or another if he has anything to do with it. He steps toward her and runs a finger down the side of her face watching him in turn. “Lie down,” he tells her.

She lays back, and he lowers to the place beside her.

His arm goes under her, his other hand ghosting over her side until it stops on her hip. Good, she isn't shaking. Or crying either for that matter. There's warmth there in her eyes and he can see her, all of her, open to him. He must be looking too long at her he realizes when her lips turn up in a little smile, that pleased light in her eyes winning out. That's when he moves his hand to press between her legs. Her mouth pouts open as surprise takes over. 

"Lay back," he tells her. "Relax." She does as he says, and he's pleased when her legs fall slack for him, opening slightly. 

His hand slides down and touches her, his fingers finding her little knot above her cunt. Sansa gasps next to him, her eyes widening but just as quick her legs start to close.

"Sansa," he says, regretting the sharpness of it as she then almost looks fearful. "Come here," he says next sitting up and pulling her across his lap. When her eyes find his, he tells her, "Trust me." She takes a deep breath, then her arms find their way around his neck. 

Sandor watches her closely as his hand slides up her soft, pale thigh nudging it further out. He carefully runs his fingers over her cunt, feeling the heat of it. He tests with some pressure and hears her whimper. "Good?" He asks, still watching. She nods ever so slightly and that's all the encouragement he needs. He adds pressure sliding his hand back and forth, edging little by little into her as she gets more slick. She goes slack in his arms, breath heavy as he continues. 

"Oh," he hears her start to repeat as he tries to quicken his motion. 

"Gods, I want you," he tells her, taking in the sight of her perfect form in his arms, breasts heaving as he strokes her. She's undone by the pleasure he's giving her, and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He dips down to take a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard as he presses further into her, almost roughly. That's when he feels the shudder go through her body. Her panting changes, and he looks up to see her face full of wonder and a smile that says everything. He can't help but smirk back at her and then grind her hip against his cock. 

"Sandor," she says, though the daze she's in sedated any shock. He kisses her then and rests his forehead against hers. She nestles up against him next and releases a drawn-out sigh. He holds her there, running his fingers through her hair, the strands burnished by the candlelight into shining copper. 

Then, his palm cups her face, and he tilts her chin to meet her lips. He slowly kisses her, lingering, as he tries to bring her back from her daze. She starts to respond, her arms strengthening in their embrace as her mouth opens to him. His arms pull her body taught to his, her legs straddling him as he takes everything he can from her lips, her mouth, before kissing down to her neck. She completely moans then, her nails digging into his back for purchase. 

Maneuvering, he flips  around so he's over her. His arms on either side as he looks down at her beautiful, smiling face, all her creamy skin. He starts sliding his cock over her slick cunt. A hint of fear enters her eyes as it slips to nudge her entrance. "It's alright, baby, trust me," he tells her, and he's pleased to see her nod and relax. 

He returns there, pressing into her entrance. It's tight. Her whimper almost breaks him as he feels her hands tighten their grip on him. It must be done, she must be his, so he presses further, dropping to his elbows so he can take her face in his hands. 

He can see the pain in her eyes, but he keeps his gaze locked to hers. A deeper thrust and a tear trickles down. He starts to pull away, but her hold stops him. "Please," she says. 

"I'm here, you're alright," he tells her and as gently as he can he presses in more until he's completely in her. Her breath evens, and he can see the pain start to retreat from her. He starts to slowly move in and out, his eyes rolling back to feel her tight and warm around his cock. Gods, it's too good. 

He looks down to see her watching him, her lips parted as she breathes shallow, her eyes dark. He taps her leg nudging it around him and her other follows. His arm goes under her to prop her up more, and he lowers to kiss her. Her eager kisses press him to thrust harder, and she gasps against his mouth. Fucking hells, he could get used to that. He thrusts again, feeling her back start to arch. "That's it," he tells her. Her hips start to meet him, and his hand slides down to press her further as he groans at the slow, torturous squeeze of it. He lowers, pressing her into the bed as he starts to fuck her harder. She cries out now, her body soft and yielding as he freely slides within her, losing his restraint. 

"Fuck," he says as he feels his release building. He grabs her legs, pinning them back as he raises up, fucking her deeper and harder. Her brows are scrunched, her mouth dark pink as she pants, and he stares into her wide blue eyes. It's too much, seeing her like this, how much he's wanted her. He feels himself loose but is in control enough to pull out and spill on her belly. He's breathing hard now, holding himself up with her bent legs. He pushes them to the side and falls next to her. He can feel her go rigid next to him, and he looks over to see her eyes on her belly. He chuckles, getting up to retrieve the towel she'd given him.

All his strength seems to have left as he moves slowly, collapsing back on the bed and starting to clean her off. 

She sits up a little, those blue eyes questioning. Done, he lays back, too tired for the moment.

"Good?" She asks, and he smirks, remembering asking her that just before. Silly little bird.

"Yes," he says, lifting an arm. Quick as can be, she moves next to him, her head resting on his shoulder.

"Where will we go?" She asks.

"Fast as we can away from here." He says, bitterness seeping in. The raven for the exchange would've reached Riverrun awhile ago now. Hard to hide a red-haired highborn maiden, for fuck's sake. 

He shifts over, his hand coming up to her face. He feels a calmness in him, some knowing it will work out now that's she's his. It goes against everything he knows, but he can't help but look at his little bird and hope. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love! Sorry for the hiatus :)
> 
> Scene where his thumbs press on her neck is inspired by scene in recent Jane Eyre with Michael Fassbender and Mia Wasikowska.


End file.
